


Grab and taste

by lorielen (culuyetille)



Series: Hwoarang/Jin ficlets [6]
Category: Tekken (Video Games)
Genre: But No Actual Sex Scenes, Established Relationship, M/M, Mention of sex, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-06
Updated: 2006-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26339605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/culuyetille/pseuds/lorielen
Summary: Hwoarang muses about Jin and their relationship.
Relationships: Hwoarang/Kazama Jin (Tekken)
Series: Hwoarang/Jin ficlets [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913989
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	Grab and taste

Try as he might, Jin can’t grow out of being a momma’s boy and it never gets old as bantering material. Even when their interaction involves such a great deal of it – bantering.  
  
Alas, Jin rarely lets himself be dragged into shouting matches, making Hwoarang feel exceedingly childish. Rather fucking often. Come to think of it, Jin’s annoyingly unverbal and it often annoys the piss out of Hwoarang. For one, he feels that he speaks all too much to say anything of importance, whereas Jin applies his small quota of uttered words to things he means. It seems the man ponders exhaustively before holding a notion as his own, and that very concept is scary to the impulsive Korean, who firmly believes that thinking things over twice would equal giving up three quarters of what he feels like doing.  
  
Jin’s mostly silent manner was a bitch getting used to, but the silverline is, he does means things when he says them in that low, grave, polite voice that is Hwoarang’s undoing. Jin is intense in his quietness, strong-willed and frighteningly reliable. It scares Hwoarang shitless, because for all Jin can be clumsy in detecting and acting upon his feelings, he is solidly determined on what he sets to do. They have that much in common, obstination.  
  
Jin has some sort of health condition that makes him want to be left alone every once in a while. It makes Hwoarang feel left out in such a manner that he never does ask. For all he knows, it’s hereditary – which means Jin might go blood-thirsty and devoid of scruples like his father and devil of a grandfather. Once, when helplessness reached a hurtful peak and he didn’t dare yell, Hwoarang mumbled a question about fucking pills that could be any fucking good. Jin looked at him for a disconcerting moment, then breathed out between tired lips that he wanted to hold and be held. Because, at times, Jin was simple like that.  
  
In Jin’s hands, an ipod is a key to a small private universe of pensiveness. It often means he won’t mind the crappy shows that are Hwoarang’s choice of TV-time and the two of them can cuddle in the sofa, partaking not-quite-company that is rather warm. Hwoarang isn’t shy about loving to touch and taste and have his legs and hair all over Jin, simply because his lover will let him, because he’s there. And he has such a nice, calming breath pattern, too. The Japanese isn’t big on casual touching, but the way he leans against offered contact more than makes up for it. He’s ok with being held through tough times, too, which is great, for the redhead is entirely too proud for any manner of vocal apology that would fit the ‘worded’ category.  
  
There’s this about how Jin loves. He isn’t given to public displays of affection; in fact, he’s shy about reaching out even in private, as though he isn’t quite sure of what to make of the attraction between them. Once provoked, though, Jin pursues satisfaction and pleasure, both his and Hwoarang’s, with mouth-watering tenacity. Then again – and this, Hwoarang had found to his great delight and amusement – if confronted with the slightest hesitance, Jin respectfully withdraws. So very thoughtful and gullible and adorable, his bulky piece of Kazama. He seems disaquainted with the games lovers play. And Hwoarang really, truly does hate having people touch his hair, except Jin feels its texture with a tenderness that is almost reverent and the Korean could purr, weren’t it so very undignified. Sometimes he does it anyway, though, just because it’s bound to make Jin chuckle and that, that’s gold.  
  
As was to be expected, Jin is artistic and unsurprisingly mediocre at it. Hwoarang’s never offered a word of polite and fake appraisal, mostly because he thinks all that shit makes Jin feel bad about himself. Likewise, Hwoarang has never told his lover just how gorgeous he thinks Jin is, because that’d make him smile self-deprecatingly and shrug it off, and, well, if you ask Hwoarang, tongue-rimming is just as intimate and passionate a way to say “love you to fucking pieces”. Sometimes it’s a spectacular thing, that Jin seems careful enough about the nourishment of their relationship to never bring it into discussion. For Hwoarang might live the very meaning of impulsiveness, diving head-first into his passions, but he… happens to have, like, this overpowering, big-ass repulsion to commitment. So. That Jin’s more of a nuzzler than one to whisper promises of undying love that would demand equally verbal reciprocation is just fine with Hwoarang. It isn’t as though he knows how to go about this love, but then again, Jin doesn’t seem to mind it, so maybe things are already okay.  
  
Upon entering the basement of Jin Kazama’s intimacy, Hwoarang found there a silent, monstrous pain he couldn’t breach. He self-righteously refused to bend and be second to the other man’s concern and struggled until he learned that everything with Jin was attained in roundabout ways, meandering the pit of his sorrow. And so he set to it, because fuck, someone needed to kick that hunk of a man out of his self-centred and self-pitiful little life. There is a fucking wide world out there, full of people with problems, eh? Laughing might not exactly be Jin’s cuppa and the wanker is all but ticklish, but he’s surprisingly attuned to the bad little jokes that escape Hwoarang’s lips like exhale and which he’d never thought he’d get to share with a living soul, and that, that is akin enough to hope to be held on.


End file.
